


Who Do You Belong To?

by adolescence



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Bottom!Rhys, Crossdressing, Discipline, Established Relationship, I mean am I right?, Implication of Aftercare, Jack Being an Asshole, Jealousy, Light daddy kink, M/M, One-Shot, Possessive Behavior, Rhys in panties, Spanking, When is Jack ever /not/ Daddy?, but he takes care of Rhys, light humiliation, so the usual, top!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8907694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolescence/pseuds/adolescence
Summary: It was just supposed to be some harmless flirting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This would be my second one-shot for this fandom. Not too sure how I feel about this one seeing as I should really be asleep right now (and I think I kind of am asleep rn, if I'm being honest). I started writing something fairly innocent and it turned out. . . well, like _this_.
> 
> #sorrynotsorry
> 
> So just watch where you step. c:

“Oh my god- JAAAACK!”

 

The sight of Rhys storming out of their room, his face all hard lines and lips pressed together, hand closed in a fist around Jack’s silky gift, nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, it would have made Jack laugh outright - because Rhys was about as intimidating as an irritated kitten - if it hadn’t been for his own anger. He just smirked and raised an eyebrow instead.

 

“Something the matter, Pumpkin?” Jack asked, feigning ignorance.

 

“Yes!” Rhys exclaimed, holding out his hand that had been clenched around the fabric. “These. And where the hell did all of the rest of my clothes go?!”

 

Jack simply turned back to his computer, concealing a sadistic grin behind a literal mask, his expression remaining neutral externally. “Threw ‘em out.” He said casually.

 

Rhys flared up again. “What the hell, Jack!-” He stopped then, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “Is this- y’know, some sort of joke? ‘Cause if it is, I’m not laughing,” When that didn’t evoke a response out of Jack, like for instance where they may be, Rhys went on. “Where the fuck did you put all of my clothes?”

 

“Language,” Jack chastised, looking up until his eyes settled on Rhys, the younger male’s hair still damp from the shower he’d just taken. He let his eyes follow a droplet of water that ran down his neck, watching as it pooled in the hollow of his throat. “As for your clothes, I told ya, kiddo; I threw them out.”

 

Rhys’ mismatched eyes widened with disbelief, petal pink lips parting in a small “o”. The anger returned. “Why would you do that? I have work in the morning and-”

 

“I’m your boss, sweetcheeks,” Jack said smugly. “So you only have work when I say you do. Plus, I was kind enough to restock.”

 

“Restock?” Rhys murmured slowly, expecting more to be said on the matter. He didn’t have a scrap of clothing left aside from the underwear in his hand - panties, mind you - that was more or less just a string of lace in his palm. Even the clothes he had just stripped out of to initially get in the shower were nowhere to be seen. “My closet is empty. You didn’t restock a damn thing.”

 

“Oh, kitten, but I did,” Jack smiled, gesturing to Rhys’ hand. “See?”

 

“. . . what.” Rhys’ eyes fell on the dainty article of clothing, brow furrowing as he looked back over to Jack. Again, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

 

“I would _never_.”

 

“Jack!” Rhys whined, even stomping his bare foot for good measure. “This isn’t funny. What is all of this about, anyway? What did I do?”

 

“It’s not meant to be funny.”

 

Rhys had been expecting this to be some sort of joke, obviously. A cruel one at that, because he was cold standing here all wet with nothing to cover up with other than this towel, and that was definitely not enough to stop the shiver crawling up his spine. He wasn’t sure if the shiver was from the cold or the sudden change in Jack’s demeanor, but he was leaning more towards it being a mixture of the two.

 

The young man just blinked a couple times at the other. His mismatched eyes were hooded, dark, his tone only making to accentuate just that. His lips were curled at one end into something of a sneer, canines on display like a threat. No, a promise.

 

“J. . .Jack?” Was all Rhys managed to get out, his anger dissipating.

 

Jack stood. Rhys’ knees didn’t feel too stable anymore, especially when Jack began making his way over. His heavy boots made his calculated steps unnerving. Well, more so than they already were. Rhys hadn’t even realized he’d moved until his back was pressed against a cool wall, and Jack was soon to box him in with his hands at either side of his head.

 

“Oh god,” Rhys practically squeaked, squeezing his eyes shut when their foreheads touched. He wracked his brain for something - anything - that would have provoked something like this. He joked with Jack, teased him, but. . . but he liked, that- right? He had to. Or maybe not. Maybe he had pushed him too far and-

 

Rhys’ eyes flew open whenever his towel was pulled from his hips, leaving him completely bare. Jack tossed it, landing in the floor off to the side of the room. He couldn’t help the shudder than ran up his body as the room’s cool air ran over his newly exposed skin, goosebumps left behind in its wake. But with the murderous look in Jack’s eyes as he drank the younger male in, a draft was the least of Rhys’ worries.

 

One of Jack’s large hands came up, pushing a damp tendril of Rhys’ hair from his forehead. The usual tender gesture only made Rhys uneasy. When Rhys’ eyes met Jack’s, he expected something softer - who knows why - but when he was met without so much as Jack’s normal smugness, he gulped.

 

“I saw you, kiddo.” Came Jack’s surprisingly gentle voice.

 

“. . . Huh?” Was Rhys’ smart reply.

 

“When you went for a drink after work,” Jack elaborated. “I saw you, Pumpkin.”

 

It took Rhys a moment to figure out why he was royally fucked, but when he realized why, he scrambled for something to say. “You- you said you were working, I-” Rhys cut himself off, not knowing how to explain himself.

 

“I was,” Jack sighed, large hand cupping the younger male’s face. “But I got done early to surprise you.”

 

Rhys blinked up at him, dark eyes boring into him. If it hadn’t been for Jack being right there, practically holding him up, he wasn’t sure his knees wouldn’t buckle.

 

“Thought we’d have a couple drinks, have my driver drive us around and see some sights, ya know, all that romantic crap you love so much,” Jack said, getting impossibly closer. “Then take you back home and rock your freakin’ world.”

 

Silence on Rhys’ end, figuring anything he'd say would just make it worse.

 

“And then what do I see?” The older man asked, glare harsh. “You. My boyfriend batting his eyes at some nobody bartender with an airlock in his future. Care to explain, Rhysie?”

 

“I-I- . . . Jack. I’m sorry- he wasn’t anything special, I just-”

 

“Damn right he wasn’t.” Jack cut in, tone sharp.

 

“It wasn’t like that, Jack. I was just trying to see if I could get free drinks. I promise!” Rhys’ voice was pleading in not so many words.

 

“I gave you a credit card so you wouldn’t have to whore yourself out to get a damn drink.” Jack growled.

 

Rhys blinked a couple times, shocked at his words.“I wasn’t whoring myself out, you ass!”

 

“Coulda fooled me.”

 

Rhys’ hand came up before he could stop himself, the back of his organic hand colliding with Jack’s face. The smack of the action rung out. Jack’s head jerked slightly to the side on impact, and a gasp left Rhys’ lips. But- but he shouldn’t feel bad for doing that, should he? With what Jack was insinuating, he should have gotten away with a lot more. And seeing as he was buck-naked thanks to this man and his outrageous overreactions, and feeling as vulnerable as ever because of it, he deserved a lot more.

 

Whatever confidence Rhys had worked up diminished within seconds of Jack turning his head back towards him. A smirk was blatant on his lips, but his eyes burned with an intensity the likes of which had only been directed at Rhys a handful of times. So, to put it lightly, he was ill-prepared.

 

“Nice one, kitten.” He practically purred.

 

A hand grasped his, pulling the panties he forgot he’d been holding from them just to force them into his chest. “Put them on.” He ordered, releasing them. Rhys caught them by pressing a hand to his chest, eyes low as Jack went back over to the couch where he’d been doing work before.

 

Pulling them away from his chest, he looked at the lacy undergarment. His cheeks were already hot from the blush his embarrassment caused. Being naked in front of Jack was one thing - they’d had sex plenty of times, so nudity when it was just the two of them wasn’t something to blush like a schoolgirl over - but this. This was an entirely different situation altogether. Plus, when they got down and dirty, it usually entailed the both of them being naked, which Jack most certainly was not - and he looked pleased about it.

 

“I- Jack. C’mon. Please-”

 

“Don’t make me say it again.” Jack snarled.

 

Swallowing his pride and protest, Rhys grasped either side of the silky lace, and then proceeded to step into them. He took a deep breath. Was he really doing this? Hooking his fingers into the sides he pulled them up his long legs, up and around groin - he guessed he was doing this. He was disturbed - and impressed, which he forced himself to internalize - by how well they fit him. It only disturbed him further to think that Jack had put effort into all of this, that he took time out of his day to what? Prove a point to him? Whatever point it was, it was going right over his head. Perhaps that was because Jack hadn’t even begun.

 

“Mm, good boy,” He praised with a wolfish grin as he shrugged off his jacket. The man laid it neatly over the back of the couch, eyes wandering over Rhys. He gave a low whistle. “Goddamn, I did a good job picking that out!” Jack beamed, and if Rhys didn’t know any better, he’d say he almost sounded giddy. Self-satisfaction was clear as day on his twisted grin. He rolled his eyes at Rhys’ pout. “Oh, c’mon, Cupcake. It’s not that bad! You like it,” Jack said, eyes venturing back down. He raised his eyebrows, chuckling. “- oh-ho-ho, looks like you really like it.”

 

Jack’s eyes were unabashedly on Rhys’ groin, and Rhys’ cheeks were searingly hot, his entire face burning with embarrassment. He had to physically resist the urge to cover himself - and Jack, just pointing it out like that. He couldn’t help how his body reacted to things, but that did nothing to ease him. He felt a little light-headed, blood rushing south as if to spite him, and something like that was impossible to hide in something as dainty as this. And to top it all off, even with how soft the fabric was, it was uncomfortable.

 

The CEO patted his lap, arching his brow like he was daring Rhys to challenge him.

 

That was one challenge that Rhys would not be accepting.

 

“Lay right here with that pretty ass up.”

 

Rhys’ jaw tightened, muscles visibly flexing as he held back any protests and remarks. He was ordering him around like a piece of meat. But any irritation and anger was once again crushed. If he snapped at Jack, it would be his funeral. Metaphorically. Maybe. Okay, okay. Maybe Rhys was overreacting a little. He was his boyfriend. But then again Jack wasn’t known for his reasonable, sane behavior. With that look in his eye, the absurd extents he went to plan this evening out, both left Rhys with the impression that tonight wasn’t going to be easy.

 

Again, he obeyed. He was a little reluctant when he got close to Jack, his palms getting all sweaty despite the cold. Building up the courage to lay across his knees - he knew exactly what Jack planned to do. Minus the underwear choice and the situation at hand, they’d done things like this before. It was under milder, sexier circumstances. Most of the time under made up ones that didn’t involve Jack getting so damn jealous that he threw out all of his freaking clothes.

 

Jealous.

 

Handsome Jack was jealous.

 

And over some bartender whose features Rhys couldn’t recall in detail, much less remember the name of.

 

The realization, that he’d known before but been too preoccupy to fully acknowledge, sent a pleasant, victorious wave over him, soothing the burning of his cheeks somewhat.

 

Rhys was brought back whenever Jack’s hands came out to speed the process along, his impatience winning over. Rhys was across his lap in one swift motion he was too caught up in to register at first.

 

“There we go,” Jack huffed. “Wasn’t too hard, Pumpkin, now was it?”

 

“Fuck, Jack.” He murmured, feeling a little helpless at the moment. There was a hand pressing against his back, leaving him trapped between that hand and his knees. Rhys used his organic and mechanical hands for balance; his mechanical hand gripping the front of the cushion on the couch and the flesh one grasping at Jack’s leg.

 

“Language,” Jack warned again, a small swat to Rhys’ behind ensuing. Not enough to sting, but just enough to make Rhys yelp in surprise. ”Now remind Daddy why he needs to punish you. Think you can do that, Pumpkin?”

 

Rhys’ face was burning again, this time a deep scarlet. “’Cause I. . . Cause I, uhm.”

 

“Because you what, kitten?” Jack pressed, edged tone.

 

“’Cause I flirted with that- that guy.”

 

“Good,” Rhys couldn’t see it like this, but he could hear the smile in Jack’s voice. His hand roamed Rhys’ ass - the dainty fabric clinging to his skin offering little protection. “And why is that a bad thing, Rhysie?”

 

“Because ‘m yours.”

 

Another swat. This time it stung. “Didn’t quite catch that, Cupcake.”

 

Rhys swallowed, forced himself to speak up. “I’m yours.”

 

“Goddamn right you are,” Jack got out through gritted teeth. Jack’s hand came down again and Rhys hissed at the stinging bite. “All mine. This-” He grabbed Rhys’ behind, fingers digging into the meat of his ass. “Who does it belong to?”

 

“Y-you.” Rhys’ own fingers dug into the man’s leg, feeling the unmistakable pressure of Jack’s arousal pressing against his stomach.

 

“Say it again,” Jack growled, releasing Rhys’ ass just to palm at the supple swell of his rear. “Who. Does it. Belong. To.” An unforgiving hand came down on Rhys’ ass, hard enough to knock the breath right out of him.

 

The stinging that followed made Rhys wince. “You!” He gasped.

 

Rhys tensed, awaiting another. It never came. It gave him a moment to focus on how strange his throbbing cock felt between the contrast of delicate panties and Jack’s thick, coarse more-expensive-than-what-you-are-worth pants.

 

“If you already belong to me - Handsome goddamn Jack, mind you - why would you need anyone else?” He asked.

 

“I-I don’t, Jack, I-”

 

“Obviously that’s a lie, Pumpkin,” He could practically hear Jack rolling his eyes. Another smack. “Is it cause I’m working too much? Huh? Not giving my little Rhysie enough attention? Is that what it is? Surely my good boy wouldn’t be slutting it up for some damn drinks, right?”

 

“No, I swear, just let me-”

 

Smack.

 

Rhys’ eyes pricked with tears at that one, and he bit his bottom lip hard not to let out any noise - he wouldn’t be able to handle it right now if he gave Jack the satisfaction of a whimper. The particularly hard blow was enough for even Jack to feel compelled to smooth the sting over a little, his hand kneading into the abused flesh there.

 

“Who does this belong to?” Jack’s voice was soft now. Rhys’ ass really did look edible in those panties, and fuck if it wasn’t doing it for him.

 

“You.” Rhys croaked.

 

Jack’s hand slowly dipped between Rhys’ legs, fingers following the cleft of his ass. “What about-” His hand stopped at his groin, cupping his hard, leaking cock through the lacy fabric. To Rhys’ dismay, his hand offered no friction, but he relished in the warmth. “-this?”

 

“You.”

 

“Say it again; who does this belong to?” Jack pressed, his hand squeezing a small bit.

 

“Y-ou,” Came the younger male’s shaky reply. “It belongs to you.”

 

“So if all of this belongs to me,” His hand returned to Rhys’ ass. “Was it okay for you to bat those big eyes of yours at that poor, dead man? Make him promises that you sure as hell aren’t gonna be able to keep?”

 

“I never made any-”

 

Another smack, one just as hard as the last. Then two lighter ones in quick succession. Rhys couldn’t help the whimper that fell from his lips.

 

“Eye fucking him the way you were? Sure you weren’t,” Jack said. “Slut.”

 

Rhys furrowed his brow angrily. “I am not a slut!”

 

Jack ignored him. “Who does this belong to?”

 

No response.

 

“This isn’t a damn game, Cupcake,” Jack’s hand at his back was unwavering, keeping him there despite the lack of struggle. “Now, tell Daddy who it belongs to.”

 

Again, there was no response. Just stubborn silence.

 

 _Brat_ , Jack thought. Or perhaps he said it aloud. He lost count of how many times his hand had connected to Rhys’ cherry red ass. He just stopped whenever the hand marks on Rhys’ ass began to blend together and when he heard the whimpering.

“J-ack,” Rhys whined, voice broken.

 

Stoic, Jack spoke up. He noticed the wince as his hand roamed Rhys’ abused flesh. “Rhysie. Who do you belong to?”

 

Rhys murmured something. This time Jack really couldn’t hear it.

 

“ _Who_ do you belong to, Cupcake?”

 

“You.”

 

A pleased smile pulled at Jack’s lips.

 

“That’s my good boy.”

 

When Rhys had noticed Jack had been prepared for tonight, it wasn’t an exaggeration. The older man leaned over to the coffee table which was littered with too many things for the younger man to have been able to notice, and grabbed a bottle of soothing cream. Top of the line and it smelled sweet and fruity, just like he knew his kitten liked.

 

Only the best for his Rhysie, even if he'd been naughty.

**Author's Note:**

> There it is!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! You can always tell me what you think down in the comments. I always love reading you guys' thoughts and stuff. Love, love, love it! :>


End file.
